nant curve of the Aurora is similarly counterbalanced by a series of shorter lines curving in the opposite direction.
Contrast comes into effective play where a good many figures are brought together: youth offset by age, gayety by seriousness, motion by repose. The angelic beauty of Raphael’s St. Michael is contrasted with the ugliness of Satan; the rugged strength of St. Christopher by the infantine face of the Christ-child; the aristocratic sleekness of the horse in Landseer’s Shoeing by the shaggy coat of the plebeian donkey. Such devices, however, must not be too pronounced. They are held in check by the laws of Consistency and Continuity. In other words, the elements of a good composition are homogeneous, and hold together well, so to speak. All the color should conform harmoniously with the one scheme and the flow of line should be complete and satisfying.
It is obvious that the art of a picture may be considered quite apart from the subject, and that we may admire the composition as such, either in color or line, whether the subject is “pretty” or not, and whether we like or dislike the theme. The word “art” is not a synonym for prettiness or sentimentality, though the popular taste so often calls for these qualities. Some of the noblest pictures contain figures which are far from “pretty” in the general acceptance of that term, like Millet’s Milkmaid, or Water Carrier, or the Man with the Iloc. Van Eyck’s famous portrait of the Man with the Pink represents an almost ludicrously ugly subject treated with con-
